WITHINS

One's own crowd either stands around or within this one; Once the party is done, the mountain climbed, the life concluded, the only ones remaining are those having conversations while strolling those beaches stretched from one neurone to another, ad infinitum;

Friends have built for themselves, existential havens within that brain which sees their replicas outside, eyes helping; infinity is outside and inside, the organic structure no more than a balloon skin, merely holding it all for a moment, an instant, a passage through a forever windy present;

When one crawls under the bedsheets, all those friends do the same, existentially within that brain; sleep finds all together for an adventure into intuition, tuition fee for an access to pure infinity, the absolute sanatorium for a cure, a reset out of that gone day's discards, deceptions;

Each night resets one's furrows for the next day's planting, composting all the leftover before they start rotting; outsiders, friends of that day